The Companions of Jehu by Alexandre Dumas (sneezy the snowman read aloud .txt) 📕
The trial recommenced. It was at first attended by the same results as the preceding one. The four accused were protected by an alibi, patently false, but attested by a hundred signatures, and for which they could easily have obtained ten thousand. All moral convictions must fail in the presence of such authoritative testimony. An acquittal seemed certain, when a question, perhaps involuntarily insidious, from the president, changed the aspect of the trial.
"Madam," said he to the lady who had been so kindly assisted by one of the highwaymen, "which of these men was it who tendered you such thoughtful attention?"
This unexpected form of interrogation confused her ideas. It is probable that she believed the facts to be known, and saw in this a means of modifying the fate of the man who interested her.
"It w
Read free book «The Companions of Jehu by Alexandre Dumas (sneezy the snowman read aloud .txt) 📕» - read online or download for free at americanlibrarybooks.com
- Author: Alexandre Dumas
- Performer: -
Read book online «The Companions of Jehu by Alexandre Dumas (sneezy the snowman read aloud .txt) 📕». Author - Alexandre Dumas
Montbar and Adler, whose real names were unknown, like those of d’Assas and Morgan, were commonly called by the Company “the inseparables.” Imagine Damon and Pythias, Euryalus and Nisus, Orestes and Pylades at twenty-two—one joyous, loquacious, noisy, the other melancholy, silent, dreamy; sharing all things, dangers, money, mistresses; one the complement of the other; each rushing to all extremes, but forgetting self when in peril to watch over the other, like the Spartan youths on the sacred legions—and you will form an idea of Montbar and Adler.
It is needless to say that all three were Companions of Jehu. They had been convoked, as Morgan suspected, on business of the Company.
On entering the room, Morgan went straight to the pretended bearer of despatches and shook hands with him.
“Ah! the dear friend,” said the latter, with a stiff movement, showing that the best rider cannot do a hundred and fifty miles on post-hacks with impunity. “You are taking it easy, you Parisians. Hannibal at Capua slept on rushes and thorns compared to you. I only glanced at the ballroom in passing, as becomes a poor cabinet courier bearing despatches from General Masséna to the citizen First Consul; but it seemed to me you were a fine lot of victims! Only, my poor friends, you will have to bid farewell to all that for the present; disagreeable, unlucky, exasperating, no doubt, but the House of Jehu before all.”
“My dear Hastier—” began Morgan.
“Stop!” cried Hastier. “No proper names, if you please, gentlemen. The Hastiers are an honest family in Lyons, doing business, it is said, on the Place des Terreaux, from father to son, and would be much humiliated to learn that their heir had become a cabinet courier, and rode the highways with the national pack on his back. Lecoq as much as you please, but not Hastier. I don’t know Hastier; and you, gentlemen,” continued the young man, addressing Montbar, Adler and d’Assas, “do you know him?”
“No,” replied the three young men, “and we ask pardon for Morgan, who did wrong.”
“My dear Lecoq,” exclaimed Morgan.
“That’s right,” interrupted Hastier. “I answer to that name! Well, what did you want to tell me?”
“I wanted to say that if you are not the antipodes of the god Harpocrates, whom the Egyptians represent with a finger on his lips, you will, instead of indulging in a lot of declamations, more or less flowery, tell us why this costume, and why that map?”
“The deuce!” retorted the young man. “If you don’t know already, it’s your fault and not mine. If I hadn’t been obliged to call you twice, caught as you doubtless were in the toils of some beautiful Eumenides imploring vengeance of a fine young man for the death of her old parents, you’d know as much as these gentlemen, and I wouldn’t have to sing an encore. Well, here’s what it is: simply of the remaining treasure of the Berne bears, which General Lecourbe is sending to the citizen First Consul by order of General Masséna. A trifle, only a hundred thousand francs, that they don’t dare send over the Jura on account of M. Teysonnet’s partisans, who, they pretend, are likely to seize it; so it will be sent by Geneva, Bourg, Mâcon, Dijon, and Troyes; a much safer way, as they will find when they try it.”
“Very good!”
“We were informed of this by Renard, who started from Gex at full speed, and transmitted the news to l’Hirondelle, who is at present stationed at Châlon-sur-Saône. He transmitted it to me, Lecoq, at Auxerre, and I have done a hundred and fifty miles to transmit it in turn to you. As for the secondary details, here they are. The treasure left Berne last octodi, 28th Nivôse, year VIII. of the Republic triple and indivisible. It should reach Genoa to-day, duodi, and leave tomorrow, tridi, by the diligence from Geneva to Bourg; so that, by leaving this very night, by the day after tomorrow, quintide, you can, my dear sons of Israel, meet the treasure of messires the bears between Dijon and Troyes, near Bar-sur-Seine or Châtillon. What say you?”
“By heavens!” cried Morgan, “we say that there seems to be no room for argument left; we say we should never have permitted ourselves to touch the money of their Highnesses the bears of Berne so long as it remained in their coffers; but as it has changed hands once, I see no objection to its doing so a second time. Only how are we to start?”
“Haven’t you a post-chaise?”
“Yes, it’s here in the coach-house.”
“Haven’t you horses to get you to the next stage?”
“They are in the stable.”
“Haven’t you each your passports.”
“We have each four.”
“Well, then?”
“Well, we can’t stop the diligence in a post-chaise. We don’t put ourselves to too much inconvenience, but we don’t take our ease in that way.”
“Well, and why not?” asked Montbar; “it would be original. I can’t see why, if sailors board from one vessel to another, we couldn’t board a diligence from a post-chaise. We want novelty; shall we try it, Adler?”
“I ask nothing better,” replied the latter, “but what will we do with the postilion?”
“That’s true,” replied Montbar.
“The difficulty is foreseen, my children,” said the courier; “a messenger has been sent to Troyes. You will leave your post-chaise at Delbauce; there you will find four horses all saddled and stuffed with oats. You will then calculate your time, and the day after tomorrow, or rather tomorrow, for it is past midnight, between seven and eight in the morning, the money of Messires Bruin will pass an anxious quarter of an hour.”
“Shall we change our clothes?” inquired d’Assas.
“What for?” replied Morgan. “I think we are very presentable as we are. No diligence could be relieved of unnecessary weight by better dressed fellows. Let us take a last glance at the map, transfer a pâté, a cold chicken, and a dozen of champagne from the supper-room to the pockets of the coach, arm to the teeth in the arsenal, wrap ourselves in warm cloaks, and—clack! postilion!”
“Yes!” cried Montbar, “that’s the idea.”
“I should think so,” added Morgan. “We’ll kill the horses if necessary, and be back at seven in the evening, in time to show ourselves at the opera.”
“That will establish an alibi,” observed d’Assas.
“Precisely,” said Morgan, with his imperturbable gayety. “How could men who applaud Mademoiselle Clotilde and M. Vestris at eight o’clock in the evening have been at Bar and Chatillon in the morning settling accounts with the conductor of a diligence? Come, my sons, a last look at the map to choose our spot.”
The four young men bent over Cassini’s map.
“If I may give you a bit of topographical advice,” said the courier, “it would be to put yourselves in ambush just beyond Massu; there’s a ford opposite to the Riceys—see, there!”
And the young man pointed out the exact spot on the map.
“I should return to Chacource, there; from Chacource you have a department road, straight as an arrow, which will take you to Troyes; at Troyes you take carriage again, and follow the road to Sens instead of that to Coulommiers. The donkeys—there are plenty in the provinces—who saw you in the morning won’t wonder at seeing you again in the evening; you’ll get to the opera at ten instead of eight—a more fashionable hour—neither seen nor recognized, I’ll warrant you.”
“Adopted, so far as I am concerned,” said Morgan.
“Adopted!” cried the other three in chorus.
Morgan pulled out one of the two watches whose chains were dangling from his belt; it was a masterpiece of Petitot’s enamel, and on the outer case which protected the painting was a diamond monogram. The pedigree of this beautiful trinket was as well established as that of an Arab horse; it had been made for Marie-Antoinette, who had given it to the Duchesse de Polastron, who had given it to Morgan’s mother.
“One o’clock,” said Morgan; “come, gentlemen, we must relay at Lagny at three.”
From that moment the expedition had begun, and Morgan became its leader; he no longer consulted, he commanded.
D’Assas, who in Morgan’s absence commanded, was the first to obey on his return.
Half an hour later a closed carriage containing four young men wrapped in their cloaks was stopped at the Fontainebleau barrier by the post-guard, who demanded their passports.
“Oh, what a joke!” exclaimed one of them, putting his head out of the window and affecting the pronunciation of the day. “Passpawts to dwive to Gwobois to call on citizen Ba-as? ‘Word of fluted honor!’ you’re cwazy, fwend! Go on, dwiver!”
The coachman whipped up his horses and the carriage passed without further opposition.
Let us leave our four hunters on their way to Lagny—where, thanks to the passports they owed to the obligingness of certain clerks in citizen Fouché‘s employ, they exchanged their own horses for post-horses and their coachman for a postilion—and see why the First Consul had sent for Roland.
After leaving Morgan, Roland had hastened to obey the general’s orders. He found the latter standing in deep thought before the fireplace. At the sound of his entrance General Bonaparte raised his head.
“What were you two saying to each other?” asked Bonaparte, without preamble, trusting to Roland’s habit of answering his thought.
“Why,” said Roland, “we paid each other all sorts of compliments, and parted the best friends in the world.”
“How does he impress you?”
“As a perfectly well-bred man.”
“How old do you take him to be?”
“About my age, at the outside.”
“So I think; his voice is youthful. What now, Roland, can I be mistaken? Is there a new royalist generation growing up?”
“No, general,” replied Roland, shrugging his shoulders; “it’s the remains of the old one.”
“Well, Roland, we must build up another, devoted to my son—if ever I have one.”
Roland made a gesture which might be translated into the words, “I don’t object.” Bonaparte understood the gesture perfectly.
“You must do more than not object,” said he; “you must contribute to it.”
A nervous shudder passed over Roland’s body.
“In what way, general?” he asked.
“By marrying.”
Roland burst out laughing.
“Good! With my aneurism?” he asked.
Bonaparte looked at him, and said: “My dear Roland, your aneurism looks to me very much like a pretext for remaining single.”
“Do you think so?”
“Yes; and as I am a moral man I insist upon marriage.”
“Does that mean that I am immoral,” retorted Roland, “or that I cause any scandal with my mistresses?”
“Augustus,” answered Bonaparte, “created laws against celibates, depriving them of their rights as Roman citizens.”
“Augustus—”
“Well?”
“I’ll wait until you are Augustus; as yet, you are only Cæsar.”
Bonaparte came closer to the young man, and, laying his hands on his shoulders, said: “Roland, there are some names I do not wish to see extinct, and among them is that of Montrevel.”
“Well, general, in my default, supposing that through caprice or obstinacy I refuse to perpetuate it, there is my little brother.”
“What! Your brother? Then you have a brother?”
“Why, yes; I have a brother! Why shouldn’t I have brother?”
“How old is he?”
“Eleven or twelve.”
“Why did you never tell me about him?”
“Because I thought the sayings and doings of a youngster of that age could not interest you.”
“You are mistaken, Roland; I am interested in
Comments (0)